


Silent Night

by wayward_swagabond



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Brain Damage, Cheating, Cronus is a horrible person, Depression, Dubious Consent, He doesn't want it but still kind of consents?, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Porn With Plot, Pre-Accident Mituna, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadstuck, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, and Latula is a bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_swagabond/pseuds/wayward_swagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Mituna Captor and you, are done with this whole thing people like to call "life".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Not So Happy Birthday

Your name is Mituna Captor and you, are done with this whole thing people like to call "life".

Day in and day out, your day begins just as every single day does. The vexatious beeping of your electronic alarm clock startles and awakens you from your less-than-pleasant slumber. That same beeping has become a sound of absolute annoyance in your life. Rubbing the sleep from your restless eyes begrudgingly, you roll out of your pleasantly warm bed. As you Ease yourself up onto your feet, the painfully icy floor stings at your soles as you stumble clumsily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

You gaze at yourself in the dirty mirror- you cannot be bothered to clean it. Your unmanageable, dish water-blonde hair resting on top of your eyes, obscuring your view. Parting the mess of knots for just a moment, you find yourself staring into your tired, mismatched eyes. You scowl at them, one, a strange auburn,the other, a steely grey. To say the very least, you are not too fond of your eyes. They are just one of your many sources of your ever constant bullying. Even if to most, the genetic fault in your eye color seems beautiful, to you, it is just another hindrance. Sighing, you bend down and splash water onto your pasty, white skin, freckles covering the vast majority of your pallid canvas. After washing your face, you grab a soft, honey-colored towel and dry your dripping face then shaking you hair back in front of your view; the way you like it. Taking one final glance at yourself you exit the small room, flipping off the singular light from above.

You slump down the dull hallway, it lined with pictures of your brother and yourself. You ignore them as usual. Kicking open your door lazily, re-enter your disorganized room. You pick out a casual garb, not putting much care into what it is you are wearing, it's not like you care what you are wearing. You quickly toss it on, flashing a glimpse of your appearance in a nearby mirror. Black skinny jeans, black converse, and a pale yellow sweater that hangs off of your tall, lanky figure. Grabbing your black book bag, and clambering out of your alcove of a bedroom you walk down the length of your stairs. Dread overcomes your entire existence, making a simple realization....Today just happens to be your eighteenth year of life...Your birthday.

Most enjoy their birthday, it being a joyous celebration of another year of life. However, unfortunately for you, your birthday is not jubilant and exciting. It is the somber realization of another high school year; another year of perpetual torment from your peers, higher expectations from your demanding father, more ecstatic schools sending acceptance letters, another year of nothing you want. Just, another year gone past; another year wasted on your pitiful existence.

Upon arriving downstairs, you are greeted by nothing special. Birthdays are not a big deal in your family, they never have been. You have been drilled into thinking since primary school that only school matters, nothing but school. Your sixteen year old brother, Sollux is camped out on the sitting room couch, entranced by his computer screen; probably having coded throughout the night. He was a prime example of what was expected in this household. You on the other hand were the deviant child. Taking up skateboarding as a past-time against your father's wishes. You didn't have to put in any effort into anything you did, but the fact that you didn't take up coding or another document-able skill is what labeled you the 'lesser' child. Not that you minded, your brother is popular, you are a dweeb who gets beat up. There are many attributes to why Sollux was better.

You pass by him, your attention turning towards the kitchen. You Glance at the clock you find out that you have just enough time to grab something to eat. Shoving some bread into the toaster you impatiently wait around. Moments later, jumping at the seemingly startling sound of the toast springing from the toaster. Quickly look around, just to be sure no one had seen your embarrassing freight. Deeming the coast to be clear, you proceed with your morning as usual. You quickly slather on a rather copious amount of honey onto the toast. After drowning the poor, crisp bread in sweetness you quickly devour it. A familiar voice and the honk of a car horn emanate throughout the front of the house, signalling that it is time to go.

"Babe! We gotta go! Hurry up!" You smile, hearing the familiar voice of your girlfriend picking you up for school. You rush grabbing your bag and skateboard, hurdling out of the house. You bound to the passenger side of your fiery, red-headed girlfriend's beat up car. Your hand reaches for the handle, jolting at the sound of someone knocking on the window from the inside; someone was in your seat. Vantas, Kankri Vantas. Stumbling awkwardly you find yourself in the backseat. Glaring at the tan, white-haired boy seated in front of you you open your mouth, stumbling over your words. Flustered, and unsure of what to say.

He's been attached to Tula for the past few weeks. At first it didn't bother you but as of recently, you have not had any alone time with your girlfriend. She hadn't even gone boarding with you recently. Always busy with Vantas. What was so great about him anyway? You where just as bright as he was. Brighter even. Wasn't she the one who has complained about him since the sixth grade? Your brain works in frustrastion, forming a meek statement.

You speak in a small voice, "Did...did you know it's my birthday, Tulip?"

You see her face slightly fall to one of guilt. However, she is quick to pick it up, plastering a smile about her face, "Hells yeah, dude! My babes legal today!" She shouts in her obnoxious, "radical" tone of voice, once stopped at a stoplight. You hear the insincerity in her voice; she forgot. Not that you had expected her to remember, she's been to enveloped in Kankri. You knew your almost five-year relationship was coming to a close, she just wasn't interested anymore you guess. You bite your lip, trying to find the appropriate words.

"Are you going to come over and celebrate?" You can already hear the 'no' and shitty explanation ring throughout your mind.

"Awe, babe... I'm sorry, Kanks promised to help me study. We'll hang some other time, promise dude" Ah, and there it was; said shitty excuse, was shitty. Your eyes form a look of sadness, nodding in agreement at her words. You hear her 'apology' but, not a hint of actual regret in her voice could be heard. Throughout all of this Kankri remains quite for once, being horribly suspicious. The kid never shuts up. The red-head turns off the engine after pulling into her usual parking space. You reach to grab the car door, being stopped only by her voice. You turn your attention to her in question.

"Mituna...wait a moment" Latula had turned around to look at you, her voice somber and hushed.

"Yes, Tula?" You ask in confusion, she never referred to you with your full name like that. You wonder if it's even appropriate to refer as you had, but that thought was interupted by her, a cold comment leaving her painted lips.

"I...I think it would be best if we saw other people...." Her voice is cold and uncaring. Treating you as if you where last weeks garbage, sitting on the curb.

Choking up, your head pounds as you fight off tears. "W-why, Tula?" You say as if you are ignorant to the situation. You don't want to hear this. Maybe if you pretend to not understand it will go away. You bite your trembling lip. You knew this was coming...but, on your birthday?

Kankri peeks around, his unnaturally red-tinted brown eyes burning into your form as he glares at you, eyes practically glinting. He finally speaks up, his silence ending as he starts to speak in place of Latula."Mituna, you are not unintelligent, you know exactly what is going on. Do you realize the strain you are putting on dear Latula here by playing dumb? You are a highly intelligent man, Mituna. But, skipping class, not turning in assignments, fighting, and other nonsense has caused Latula here to fall out of whatever "love" you might have had. The best thing you can do for yourself and Tula, is to accept this and move on. She deserves someone better" The red sweater-clad boy goes on, this turning into one of his standard procedure lectures. The pound that resides in your head drowns out his voice, you turn and look at Latula. She gives a stern nod, telling you to go. You simply exit the car without a word, slamming the door shut after you.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you trudge past the other students. You briefly glare back at that beat up car you formerly sat in, eyes widening at the sight you saw. Latula and Kanri engaged in a very passionate make-out session on the hood of her car. You expected this, you knew was happening but, some part of you didn't want to believe it was real. Now, there is no denying it. You aren't even that sad, it's just the shock of the whole situation. You just question why she pretended that everything was "okay" on the way here, when it clearly wasn't? Or how this has probably been going on for weeks on end and nobody cared to tell you. You swiftly pass everyone in a fit of rage, rage at what? Just pure hatred of everything, this break-up reminding how 'not okay' you honestly are.

You try to evade Cronus, who hoots and cat calls you. You simply flip him off, compelling him to wonder and fleetingly approach you, confusion of his face. He grasps the lit cigarette from his lips, "Yo, Tuna, vwhat the fuck is up vwith you? I'd expect this o' your bro' but, not you. Vwhat's wrong?" You hear the genuine concern in his deep voice. Your expression softens and he leads you over to the wall that he was previously leaned against. 

"Well...uhm, Latula broke up with me" You tell him, stoic and calm. Although it's honest, it isn't what is wrong. 

"Tuna, I'm sorry to hear dat', you guys musta' been goin' together since vwhat? Sixth? Sevwenth grade?" His thick accent strong and steady. 

"Yeah..." You nod your head, arms crossing on your chest.. "But it's okay, I guess....I knew it was ending...Besides, at least she's happy, she has Kankri." You say almost coldly, it doesn't really bother you. Just, everything else does.

"Oh? She's wvith Kanny, eh?" You notice his voice faltered as he said so.

"You liked Kankri, didn't you?" You add softly. 

He scratches the back of his neck, trying to shake it off, "Vwell...yeah...but, I didn't havwe a chance vwith him anyway..." He lets out a brief breathless laugh. 

"yeah, well um I'm going to go...I should get to class, or whatever..." You ramble, wanting to get away and wallow in your sadness.

"Say, Tuna? Vwant ta' like ditch? I don't fil' like goin' to class" Cronus adds, putting out the last of his cigarette. "...Oh, an' happy birthday" 

Your pain is visibly lifted, someone remembered your birthday. "Yeah sure, I was planning on leaving anyway. where do you want to go?" You ask in a slightly monotone voice.

"Vwe could hang at my house, Pop's awvay on business so no ones gonna' question us on vwhy vwe aren't at school" He chimes.

"Or you just want in my pants....But sure, I guess. What have I got to lose? I'm assuming you have a car?" You add, not really caring much.

He disregards your allegations, as he leads you to his car. It's nice, new, and obviously something that you could not afford in your entire lifetime. You follow close behind stepping into the car, nestling yourself into the plush seats. This is rather nice. He steps in soon after, revving up the engine and speeding out of the parking lot. 

As he drives he berates you with questions, to which you answer with bland replies. You're sure he picks up on your depressive actions. You're glad he chooses not to bring it up, you wouldn't have a good answer. As he pulls the car into his driveway the car is eerily silent, making you bite your lip as anxiety forms. You say nothing as you exit the car, needing the fresh air to calm down. Cronus gives you odd looks, but leads you into the grand house. You always had known his family was loaded but, damn. As soon as the door closes behind the two of you he decides to open his mouth.

"Are vwe goin' ta' talk bout' vwhat's really botherin' ya'?" He raises an eyebrow as he lights a new cigarette.


	2. Guilt

"Are vwe goin' ta' talk bout' vwhat's really botherin' ya'?" Cronus raises an eyebrow as he lights a new cigarette, puffing a swirl of ashen vapor into the house.

You bite your lip, gaze falling to your feet. You don't have a a foggiest idea what to tell him. To tell him what's really bothering you? Ha! If that is what he wanted to know he should have rather asked, what isn't bothering you. You answer in your thoughts, never would you say that aloud to Cronus. He'd pity you, attempt to make you feel better. You know that only you, Mituna Captor, is responsible for the anguish you feel and that no one else needs to get involved in this lost cause of a person. Blinking away your distress, your head throbs against your skull. You finally reply to the greaser's question with a shake of your head. What were you to say? 

Cronus looks down on you, awaiting for an aneswer to a question that just can't explain. Maybe, just maybe you could, but he wouldn't want to listen; wouldn't want to deal with your nonsense. Your thoughts run rampant, stressing to make a comment in return. Cronus acknowledges your conflict, bowing forward he speaks delicately as if you were a fragile piece of china; feeble and brittle. 

"It's fine if ya' don' wanna' talk about it, Chief. I jus' worry bout' ya'. Ya' gone recluse since high school." He speaks with care, vocalizing like he hasn't been one of your tormentors since the beginning.

You scoff at the Ampora's words. He is kidding, right? He has been harassing you since day one. Doubtlessly longer than most. Perhaps less so than some, but that doesn't change anything. He's poked fun, shoved, oppressed, and assaulted you. Just like everyone else. He is no different. He doesn't care, he is just curious. Despite his strikingly nice demeanor at the current moment, it isn't sincere. He may be the only peer who has been "kind" to you, but the way that he he treats you isn't remotely friendly. You only accept it because it's the only cordial affection that you've encountered as of recent. 

His eyes widen hearing your scoff of disapproval, backing up from your personal space; a relief of sorts to you. "Baby, I jus' wanna talk to ya'. I did'nt mean ta' offend you, or nothin." Cronus worried. 

"Cronus, you may care now, but as I recall, you are one of the bastards that started this daily torment. Were you not the one who spread rumors and beat on me throughout middle and high school? Because, I sure do remember. I also remember all of those times you shoved, ridiculed, and stole work from me." You spit at Cronus, backing up away from the taller male. Distancing yourself, crossing your arms around your scrawny frame. You remember what he did, he will not be able to deceive you. Not this time.

Cronus' mouth gapes as you speak. Not wanting believe what you had said. You will not spill your inmost secrets to the enemy, you think to yourself. Oh, no you are not that foolish. Cronus' facial features fall to an apologetic, sorrowful emotion. Sincerely feeling regret one might say. "Mituna, you don't know how sorry I am bout' all that. I was full of myself and stupid. Please let me help ya', Tuna. Jus' talk ta' me." He speaks with obvious melancholy and regret. Despite his words and tone, will you believe him? He has been more or less so courteous this past year, but does that outweigh the damage he's done? Feasibly not, nevertheless, you are on the edge of breaking. You genuinely need comfort, but will you take comfort from a "former" enemy?

You gnaw at the inside of your lip, determining what course of action to take. You do need to talk to someone about this but, on the other hand, he could use the information you give him against you; to blackmail you. Your hair-obstructed gaze meets his own. From what you can tell he is being honest, and, you desperately hope he is as you unhinge your closed mouth, hesitantly speaking,

"Cronus, I don't know how sincere your words are but, I'm going trust you. Just this once, Cronus." You mumble, hoping he heard, you do not wish to repeat yourself. He obviously understands as you feel a tug at the sleeve of your faded sweater. His hand grasping the pastel cloth of the sweater as he begins to lead you through the lengthy corridors of his house. you following closely behind him, your footsteps small and un-synchronized, causing you to trip often. He guides you into a bedroom that you can only assume is his. Walls ocean blue with beautiful light-wooden furniture, strongly resembling a beach. He led to the bed, a deep indigo duvet resting atop it. You sit down cautiously, the unfamiliar territory inducing tenseness. Your lanky, thin arms wrap around your form creating a sense of comfort after you had carefully set your belongings at the foot of the bed. Cronus walks past you, setting himself down on the bed next to you. Not uncomfortably close but, friendly in a way.

"What's wrong, Tuna? You've always been quiet...but, pas' few years you've bin' plain anti-social." Cronus starts.

You think for a moment, not wanting to spill your guts at the first statement you make. "I...I guess I've just accepted the fact that I'm never going to fit in with anyone" You evade the point. You don't want him too involved. If he gets too involved and he'll either want to "help" you or think you are pathetic. You don't want either. You want your private life to stay as private as you can keep it. 

"You "fit in", Tuna. You fit in just fine" Cronus speaks. Your thoughts immediately reacting, the word, what?, in disbelief running throughout your mind. Does he really believe that? You question to yourself. You do not "fit in" at all. Not even a little. What the hell is he thinking?

You laugh in reply, finding it just hilarious that he would say that. "Cronus, Cronus, you must have me mistaken for someone else. Cause... News Flash! No one fucking likes me" You pause for a small chuckle. "An before you even say it, you may say Latula cares, but, if she really cared, Cronus she would have broken up with me when she realized she didn't have feelings for me anymore. But, no, she continued our "happy" relationship while she was fucking Vantas behind my very back! And, don't go saying you like me, because that would be utterly ridiculous, Cronus." Your giggled settles down and you wipe away the tears that had formed from it. You think playing it off as a joke will get you away from here faster so that you can be by you lonesome once again. 

He stares at you, bewildered. Like you had just done the most absurd action possible. Cronus' face turns somber, having picked up on what you are doing, and not pleased by it. "Mituna..." He starts, in a serious tone. He is genuinely worried. "Mituna, okay, so maybe people don't like you. But that's no reason to get down. You are so, so smart. Everyone's jus' jealous. You're goin' ta' go places in life. You are goin' to be someone big. Jus' don't let this get to ya', kay'?" Cronus continued, voice of desperation and sadness. You know that he's trying to get you to see just how important you are, and will be, in the future. But, you've heard it all before.

You shake your head, a broken grin upon your face. "No, I'm really not going places. The only place I'm going is the morgue, Cronus. I was sticking around for Latula's sake, but she doesn't care and I've been aware of that for weeks. I only disregarded it for her sake...just in case she decided to pay attention once more. I don't want to be smart, I don't want to "go places", none of this was ever my choice. But, leaving is my choice, something that I can control..." Well, there goes "keeping your inner thoughts private". You look down at your lap, watching as your hands tangle together. The wall clock ticking as the moments pass, waiting in silence for Cronus to speak.

"Mituna..." He finally speaks after several moments that you can only assume were to wrap his head around what you had just told him. "Are...are you plannin' on offin' yourself..?" He asks clearly pained over having to say those words. Your gaze remains on your hands, keeping your attention on them as they intertwine together. You gulp down the lump that had formed in your throat whilst unintentionally nodding your head; yes. Oops. Quickly try to counter-act your actions, looking up at him turning a small smile.

"I...I mean no, Cronus. Don't worry, I'll be okay. I just need to go home and rest. " You press your feet into the hard, yellow-wooded floor of his oceanic bedroom, easing yourself up onto your feet, desperately trying to leave.

"Mituna... Mituna wait..." Cronus whines as you start to stand. You choose to ignore his requests, standing completely to your feet. You hear a small yelp and find yourself sitting back on the bed. You realize then it was your own voice that had yelped. Cronus had pulled you down back onto the bed, clearly not done with this "conversation". You whip your head around to look at him, a less than amused look on your face.

"Cronus, what do you-" Your eyes widen in shock, his lips were pressing against your own. His eyes are closed and hands grasping your shoulders, tugging you close. You are stiff and tense as he kisses you. By the time your brain registers what is happening, he's pulled away. You blink, your hand brushing fingertips to your lips. He kissed me..., you think to yourself, seemingly unable to wrap your head around what just happened. Your gaze is pulled back to the greaser who is sitting there casually, his cheeks dusted with a pink flush. The tempo of the clock drowning out the silence, indicating the slow passing of time.

At last Cronus speaks,"Ya' know, with both of our love interests taken. We could jus' date each other?" Cronus offers, scratching the back of his neck as his blush deepens to an embarrassing shade of scarlet. Your mouth slacks agape in disbelief of his proposition. You just basically announced the end of your life, and he proposes you two date? Is he seriously trying to romanticize this situation? You sit there in utter disbelief at the whole situation. Your ears perk up, hearing his voice continue, "I know this it'sa tough time for you, Tuna, an' I really jus' wanna be there for ya ta' make ya' feel better, ya' know?" He produces that "oh so charming" smile of his, thinking it will reassure you, or something of that nature. But, his grin only suffices to puzzle you further. 

Your thoughts go blank, can you even say no? He won't leave you alone until you agree, or opt to beating on you for rejecting him. There is no choice here, just like everything else in your life. "C-Cronus...um...I don't know....I-I guess...?" You stutter about your words as they spill out of your mouth. You don't like him, you admit to yourself. However, you can't bring yourself to say no either. You see his face light up at hearing your answer, and you can't help but to feel guilty. He dives into another kiss, grasping your hands as they lay in your lap. This kiss was slightly sloppier and more intense on his side. On your side however, it is uncomfortable and tense. You know you shouldn't have said 'yes'. You know this isn't what you want. But, is there really any choice at all in your life?After what feels like an eternity, the one-sided passionate kiss finally ends, to your pleasure. You force a small smile onto your face, head throbbing, feeling the immense guilt. 

The rest of the day is almost entirely small talk, as you watch the clock (as casually as you can) waiting for the hour hand to hit two thirty. As soon as it does you insist that you must go home. That it is your birthday, that your father you requested you be home as soon as school ends. You grab your skateboard and bag and try not to hurdle out the door; to be polite. He of course insists that he drive you home. You don't think you'll survive that much more time with him.You shake your head "no" and explain that it is no trouble, that you live near by. After persistent requests he gives up and tells you that he'll see you tomorrow. You give a fake giggle, nodding your head in agreement. Enduring one final make-out session you say your good-byes and you head out the door.

As soon as you are out of view of his home, you step off your board. Your head pounds aggressively, a few tears welling and rolling down your face. You didn't want this, you didn't want any of this. You wipe your lips with your hand, thinking maybe, just maybe, you can rub away the kisses.This goes on for a sparse amount of time before collecting yourself and hopping back onto your skateboard. You eventually at your arrive home, thinking that maybe you should have taken him up on that ride home. Maybe. You walk into the dimly lit house, dropping your possessions and retreating to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

You fall unceremoniously onto your bed, not bothering to even flip on the lights. You start to cry into your pillow, muffling your soft cries into it. You aren't sure what you are even crying about anymore. Perhaps just a mix of everything. Not given the option to have a say in on anything in your life. Along with shit piled on top. The world has broken you. This goes on for a while, lying face down, arms at your side. Slowly, you collect yourself, stopping the flowing waterworks. 'This is stupid, Mituna' You think to yourself as you prop up your body, wiping away tears. Like you had this morning, you slowly stand to your feet. However, instead of meandering towards the bathroom you turn towards your desk, approaching it with soft footsteps. You yank a drawer open with much unnecessary force. Inside lie miscellaneous computer parts and some tools. You start to dig, looking for something. 

 

Your hands grasp a small plastic pack, finding what you had been searching for. You look down at your somewhat trembling hands, holding the small package labeled, 'Single Edged Razor Blades". There are some things that you can chose to do, some choices you can make for yourself. You let out a soft sigh, you gave this addiction up sophomore year. Told yourself not to let it bother you this much, again. That doesn't mean anything though anymore, simply you just don't care enough anymore. Carefully prying open the package, you remove one small, cold blade.You drag your feet across the floor, twirling the cool metal in between your fingers. You clear away the covers that rest on your bed, making an open space to sit.

You are sitting now, shirt askew. Your dominant hand hovers the thin metal over your wrist, it littered with jagged pink and white scars from years past. The blade descends onto your flesh, gently running diagonally across the pale skin. Small beads of crimson arise from the thin, pink line. You remain blank-faced, the shallow wound not satisfying your dark desires. You bring the blade back to the top of your wrist, this time pressing the blade into your pallid skin, not yet breaking it. Slowly, you dig the blade into your skin, digging it across the surface. You pull it back, inspecting the laceration; layers deep, the sides splayed open. You let out a sigh, feeling the relief this brought, a satisfied smile rests on your face. You grab a few tissues from your bed-side table, setting them beneath your arms. The cuts travel up your forearm, moving over to your opposite arm as you deem the first, out of canvas. This goes on, marking up both arms, watching the blood ooze out of gaping wounds. Balling up all of the used tissue, you stand woozily. You start a scalding hot shower, tossing the bloodied "evidence" into the toilet and flushing. You step into the blistering hot water, closing your eyes contently as it washed away the drying blood and tearing pain into the already burning lacerations. Sweet bliss. 

That night, that lonely, somber night of your eighteenth year of life, came the re-birth; the resurrection of your ghastly self-inflicted addictions...


	3. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TW: dub-con/non-con?*  
> Oh my god, this is turning into 'how many okay characters can I make bad guys'.  
> I am so sorry for this chapter...and this story in general. 
> 
> This is really sloppily written *shrug*  
> shit is hitting the fan

A month passes and you and Cronus and still 'together', if you could even call it that. What you and the Ampora have, it is not love, it isn't even attraction, more likely so, it is infatuation and possession. He feels the need to 'posses' you and have you all to himself. You are merely an accessory, only there to please him and give him someone to casually pick on. There is nothing but obligatory 'lovey' touches and dates, nothing you two do is ever for your benefit or your happiness, only his. If you so little as refuse those 'kindnesses' as he so phrases, you have to face the wrath of Cronus Ampora's physical threats. Even after telling him that you are not comfortable with him 'touching' you, he does it anyway, and you know this. After the first several times, you gave up on trying to make him stop, you knew that it was a futile effort, you knew that you were his little play toy, that he could do anything without your opinion taken into consideration. So, you play along, you play along with this little game, a fabricated, sweet smile on your pale face.

Speaking so of your pale complexion, these days you look rather sickly and ill. Bags formed under your mismatched eyes, your skin dry and slightly discolored, along with your face appearing rather gaunt. However, these features are not occurring for reasons unspecified. No, of course not. You know why day-by-day you grow weaker and more deathly in appearance. No, you would never admit to it, that would be admitting to defeat. Although, you have dropped subtle hints for a very long time.

You, Mituna Captor, believe that you are disgustingly revolting, and more specifically, fat. This had started far before even you and Latula had started dating, back in sixth grade. Despite how unreasonable you told yourself that is was, you had always poked and prodded at your flesh, telling yourself how fat you are. It started small, skipping a snack or a meal every so often, but it felt so gratifying knowing that you would inevitable become thinner. This, of course, led to more and more restriction, causing an inevitably thin, gangly Mituna. However, it had never been as intense as it had been the past month. You were now as thin as a twig. Nothing but skin and hard bones, jutting out in various places. Even covering yourself in large, oversized sweaters to hide the horrid condition of your sliced up arms, it was plain as day how sickly you looked.

Of course, no one bothered to ask about you obviously ill-looking condition. Hell, these days you only spoke to Cronus really. Your father was far too involved with his work to pay attention to you, and Sollux was as he always was, constantly ignoring you and working on his computer. You knew that Latula was far too enveloped in Kankri and his junk to give a care about you, really, you two hadn't even spoken since your birthday when she had broken things off with you. You knew just how little that everyone cared about you, and it didn't actually hurt that bad. You were kind of numb to the hurt, nothing really bothered you and nothing really upset you, because you knew that you were just going to die anyways.

You had no choice but to remain in this 'relationship' with Cronus, that, or face him and whoever he can gather in after-school beatings. Which, you already had enough to occupy every day the past week. Plus, he probably wouldn't even care about your opinion of wanting to break things off with him. He'd still force himself upon you, like he does now. At first, he would just enforce kissing, above the waist touching, and make-outs. But in time, he got bored with just that. He wanted more of you and you had known it from the beginning. Soon enough, whilst kissing him, his hand found itself groping your crotch. You did not appreciate that advance and pushed him away. Of course though, he just took what he wanted, and soon enough, you gave up fighting back. He led your hand to his own groin, he persuaded you onto your knees to blow him. At first he would return these notions as a kind of apology, but soon enough that stopped as well and you were just his toy again. You couldn't bring yourself to care to fight back, so doing these 'favors' and going out with him became less of something you were aware of that you were supposed to resent, eventually just accepting them as every day things that you were expected to do.

Later into the month, you had received multiple acceptance letters to various pretentious Universities, namely so: Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Brown...The list continues. To most, this would be highly exciting, however nothing really excites you these days really. It is hardly surprising that so many Ivy League schools have eagerly accepted you into their pompous curriculum with your astoundingly high IQ of 230. However, you couldn't care less. You really do not give two shits about your tertiary education. On the other hand, your father would not have anything but a stupendous son who graduated with honors from a university. He is 'graciously' giving you the luxury of choosing which school you will attend, to which you promptly choose Penn State. If you were going to be forced to go, you might as well go to a rather exciting school. To say the least, he is very disappointed in your choice, but what is new? Your choice makes you even 'happier' to know that after high school is over, Cronus will be moving out to California to go to college out there. Which, to say, is terribly relieving.

-

You now sit rather uncomfortably in Cronus' arms, you two are out on a Friday night at an old-fashioned drive in theater. You don't remember what they are playing, but by Cronus' singing under his breath, you are certain that it is Grease; his favorite film. You would say that is was rather adorable the way he sung along silently to every song...That was, if you didn't absolutely hate everything about his existence. Honestly though, you just have to put up with him, if you keep this up, soon enough you will be off to college...Or the morgue, you guess which ever comes first. Either way, you know that you just have to put up with him a little while longer. The warm, almost summer breeze tickles the far-too-long blonde hairs that lay on your face. You sit in between his legs (by his request, no, demand of course), you know that he must just be ignoring your lack of weight, because he is always holding you or touching you. His warmth is almost sickening, you don't want him to be touching and holding you.

You had almost not noticed that the movie had finished, if it had not been for the Ampora's shoving. "Ey, babe. Movie's ovwer, ya' look tired, vwant ta' come ovwer an' spend the night?" He asks, no, demands, it is only just phrased as a question, you know this. Being said, you also know that his 'sleepovers' are a lot less sleep and a lot more of sexually pleasing him with your hands or mouth. You hesitantly nod as if you really had a choice. Really, you are far too weak to speak much or do much, and it doesn't seem like Cronus really gives two shits whether or not if you are responsive. You slowly climb down from the hood of his car, only to have a dizzy spell as you stand to your feet. You make it through the blackened spinning of near passing out and climb into the passenger side of his automobile. The ride to his home is silent for the most part, you like it that way, less that you are obligated to remain 'okay'. Really, after that first day, your 'problems' that he was so concerned about, were never brought up again. Which you are thankful for to some extent, although, you knew that he was acting 'concerned' that day. You had known it from the beginning.

You two enter the home, little to no hesitation on Cronus' part leads you up the stairs to his bedroom. He is always eager. As you follow behind him he quickly closes and locks the door behind you two. You hate it when he locks the door, even if it is just to keep his father from walking in on you giving his son a blowjob, it still makes you warily frightened. With a devious smirk plastered to his face, Cronus wraps his arms around your middle, pulling the two of you flush against one another. As if cued, your arms wrap around his his neck lazily as he dives in and steals a sloppy, desperate kiss. You don't resist, you just kiss back, trying to desperately fake the lust that was in his half of the kiss. Apparently your faking was up to par, or maybe he just didn't care, because he had now walked you back to his bed, pushing you down under his weight onto the plush surface. The two of you continue to sloppily make out, you pulling away to breathe properly, and because you can only take so much of Ampora's cigarette-tasting mouth. "So... Do you want my mouth or hand, Cronus?" You ask, this having become standard procedure. He just snickers, placing a few lustful kissed down your neck that make your skin crawl.

"Hmm, I have a different plan for ya', chief. Tonight's a vwery special night. I'm goin' ta' treat ya' ta' somethin' special by fuckin' that pretty, little, vwrigin, ass a' yours." He chuckles deviously, before returning to your pale neck and 'gifting' you with dark purple hickies that serve as reminders that you are his 'property'. Your eyes widen and you flinch at what Cronus had said, 'he is kidding, right?! No, no, he never kids.' you worry to yourself. You tug back a bit, but Cronus remains latched to your throat, sucking away at your skin gleefully.

"Cro-Cronus... no, I-I don't think that I am ready for that yet..." You offer in a worried tone, biting your lip and hoping he takes the bait. Hoping that he doesn't realize that you are scared out of your mind. Your entire existence wants to shove him away and run from his home, but unfortunately you know that doing so is not an option. For one, you are far too weak to do anything of the running or shoving activities, and for two, the only reason you remain in this 'relationship' is because you fear what will happen if you aren't in it. The sad thing is, is that he realizes both of those things.

He chuckles, his voice deep and rather frightening. "Babe, it will be jus' fine, trust me, Tuna." He pulls away, studying his 'masterpiece' of purple and red marks that lay along your throat. With a snicker, he pulls out a few items from his bedside table that make you cringe and squirm. Cronus had pulled out a bottle of lube, a ball gag, and two pink pill-like objects that you recognize as bullet vibrators. You bite your lip, not knowing what to do.

"Cronus please, I am really not ready for this!" You lisp out, scrambling back a ways. He just grins, crawling towards you with the gag in hand. You wince, but give up on the futile effort, the quicker that you stop refusing, the quicker that this will be over. Despite everything in you saying no, you open your mouth, sitting up for Cronus. You want to cry, you want to scream for help, but who will help you? What will be the point? Simply, you give up, your mind going numb to the situation like it does to everything else in your life. You know that he will get his way, and you know that he will use force if you don't comply. So, you sit there, looking pathetic and innocent, looking almost like you are posed for a lolicon photoshoot; pathetic.

"Awve, what a good boy." Cronus muses, placing the cold gag in your mouth and securing it. He looks over you with a smug, shit-eating grin, looking at your pathetic state of helplessness. You can't run, you can't scream, you are helpless. Not that you were even going to try to do either of those activities in the first place. You are going to let Cronus have his fun, have his way with you and then sneak home at three in the morning to drink yourself into stupidity and cry over the toilet as you force the alcohol back up because of the sheer amount of calories in those beverages. You lean back into the pillows, peeling off your jeans and dropping them next to the bed. You want to cry and force your hands to stop, but truthfully, you just want this over with. He grins an evil grin at the sight of you removing your trousers for him. He reacts by tossing his own shirt off, dropping it to the ground where he now stands, his shoes, pants, and boxers following shortly there after. You slightly wince at the sight of his fully erect cock. Your own remaining completely flaccid in your briefs, you know that your body with react to his touches, you also know that he will tease you for it. All the same, you know that it is unavoidable.

He crawls back over you, tugging your blue sweater up. On any other circumstance, you would never let anyone see your body much less your arms, which are covered from base to wrist in deep jagged wounds. But, to put it quite frankly... You do not fucking care anymore. The sight may even scare him off, or you so hope it will. You have a dead look in your eyes as he peels off the garment, first revealing your jutting out hips and concaved stomach. He seems completely unphased by your sickly thin state and continues. He edges the wool sweater up over your completely defined ribcage, even going as far as to say he was smirking a bit. Then he came to where the garment had to be pulled over your head and stripped from your arms. Your deadpan continues as he sees them covering your scarily thin arms. He chuckles and licks at his lip, wait, what? That was not the reaction you had expected at all and it scares you to some extent.

He runs a thumb over one of the splayed out wounds, making you tear up a bit in numbed pain. "Never pinned ya' as a razor freak, Tuna, but I can get down with it." He chuckles. Naturally, the perverted asshole had to make this something sexually erotic. You continue to deadpan, just waiting for him to continue so that you can be done with this. You go numb to the situation as he starts to eagerly tug down your briefs. He looks rather disappointed at the sight of your flaccid cock, making a face that says without saying, 'are you fuckin' serious?'. You close your eyes as he grabs the lube and the two small vibrators. You feel him tie down the two objects to the head and base of your cock, he having placed them there by wrapping their cords around your length and the two objects. A whine is muffled the gag from your mouth as he turns the two excited toys on. He chuckles, seeing your length rapidly grow from the vibrating sensation. You are, on some level, glad that you are currently gagged, he can't hear the noises that your mouth makes as it betrays you. You just spread your legs and lean back for him, hoping he'd know that a sign to continue and hurry up and just fuck you already.

He certainly received the message, hearing the squish of thick liquid as he strokes it along his cock making you cringe. "See? I told ya' you'd like this." He sneers, rubbing the head of his thick cock along your puckered entrance. You close your eyes and tip your head back as he rather forcefully shoves the first few inches of himself into you. It hurts and you want to do nothing else but leave, but you know you can't, you have to endure this. You hadn't thought that you would have lost your virginity to Cronus Ampora. You thought even less about how it might be taken from you against your will. But, well, you guess that shit happens. You can't even bring yourself to care when he starts to ram his hips into your own, grunting with each pivot of his hips. You can tell that he is desperate and certainly close to his release by his rather erratic actions. It is kind of comical really, he talks so big, but when it comes down to it...His is edging on his climax less than a minute into fucking you.

You grunt with each unforgiving thrust, not from pleasure, but from pain. You weren't enjoying this to begin with, but now with his rough, forcefulness, not even your body can enjoy this. A few tears stream down your face as he speed up, and then suddenly stops. You are confused for a moment, but then you feel the twitch of his length inside of you, signalling his climax, feeling his seed spurting into your ass. He slowly pulls out of you, removing the two buzzing objects from your dead erection. You think that by him removing them that he believes that you came as well. You are hopeful, you do not want him touching you any further. You feel gross and sickly, a headache raging in your mind, and overall pain in your body. You feel his thick, white cum seep from your ass, you trying to push the rest out. You don't notice, but he has removed the gag. You are rather in shock that this happened.

You feel him next to you again, his heat up against you as he sweeps your knotted, curly hair to the side to press his lips into your forehead. You know you need to snap out of your languid state and put up your joyful facade once again. "You knowv that I love ya', Tuna." He gives you a smile. You know that he lies, why would anybody who cared, nonetheless loved, do this to you? However you tip your head up with a meek smile, giving him a small kiss. "I know, I love you too." You speak, shutting off your pain and emotions. "Though...I didn't tell my father I was spending the night...So 'unfortunately' I have to go, I'll see you at school, Cro." you stand, quickly tossing on your clothes, he nods and you two say your farewells for the evening. You leave his home, walking in the dark, everything inside of you breaking....


	4. Empty

As you walk in the dark, Your head subjects you to searing pain in the back of your mind. With it though, comes a numbing, and empty, emotionless pit, dulling the sting in your head to a faint throb. You want to cry, you want to sob, but, you can't seem to will your eyes to form the tears. So you walk in bitter silence, your arms draped over one another, fingernails scratching frantically at the sores that mask your frail, pitiful-looking arms. Your pace is unsteady, shaky even. Footsteps wavering in length and size, clumsily tripping over one another as you stumble towards your home. As the modest-sized home comes into your line of sight, you are relieved to see only a dim light escaping from the sitting room window, communicating that only Sollux is awake now. Hopefully he will ignore your presence as you open the wooden front entry way.

 

Shutting the door, you sink down onto it just a bit, catching yourself to stand up straight promptly, you can not collapse quite yet. Your eyes dart over to the younger male in the room, he is seen captivated by his computer screen as he always is. He glances up, making brief eye contact with you shortly before a dirty smirk graces his sleep deprived face.

"Someone's home late, now isn't he?" He cackles teasingly, making you shudder just slightly. "Have a fun night with Ampora?" He continues with a playful sneer. Your eyes widen slightly, to which Sollux definitely notices. "Ha! So Tuna finally got laid." He plays, only receiving an eyeroll from you.

"Fuck off." You reply dimly, trudging down the hallway, hearing mumbles about how you 'need to learn how to take a fucking joke'.

You slam your door closed behind you, soft enough not to wake your father, no need to involve him in your troubles. You walk past the mirror that stands just above your dresser, cringing at the sight you briefly see in your peripheral vision, causing you to stop and look a while longer. You turn towards the mirror, inspecting the reflection that looks back at you. Empty eyes is all that you are met with whilst looking into your reflection. You criticize your own appearance, pointing out everything that you perceive as a flaw. "It's no wonder why everyone hates me, look at this shit, fucking ugly is what this is." You mumble to yourself, your eyes drifting downward to your marked up neck. You let your hand wander up to the marks, lightly rubbing at them. You are his, only his, whether you like it or not, you are his.

You let out a small, pained laugh, backing up and falling onto your bed. "I'm a fucking joke. A stupid, fucking joke." You give out a breathless laugh at yourself. You can not seem to bring yourself to care. You lay there, eyes closed, you just want to sleep this numb pain away. Although, you know that it will just be there in the morning to taunt you and remind you that no matter how long you sleep, that you can't escape it's torture ever. "Maybe...Maybe it would be best if I did just kill myself... It's not like anyone has told me not to...The opposite really..." You mumble to yourself, falling asleep shortly thereafter.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Monday eventually rolls around, you, pressing your feet onto the cold floors as you groggily get up. The weekend having been spent with you talking yourself in and out of suicide. The result coming up as; you can not bring yourself to live anymore, there is no point in putting up with this shit. You dress yourself, hearing your father yell at you from the kitchen that you are already late. Like you care. Pulling on a plain, long-sleeved shirt, you exit your dim room, walking down the hallway. The hickies that cover your neck have not faded at all, rather, they took on their full color by the second day and haven't faded any since. As you walk past the kitchen, you hear a gasp from behind you.

"Mituna Captor, what are those foul markings on your neck?!" You hear the astounded voice of your father. You shrug, continuing on with gathering your things.

"What do they fucking look like?" You roll your eyes, your voice as monotonous as ever.

"You...You are grounded for the rest of the month! And when you arrive home from school, you are going to tell me who you are sleeping around with and their parents are going to get a phone call from me." Your father retorts, red in the face, and seemingly enraged. You give him a thumbs up as you leave the house, you can't bring yourself to care enough to take anything seriously.

Shutting the door harshly behind you, you head off towards the school. You know that it would take a while to get there, you usually took your skateboard or got a ride. As you walk, you point out all of the means by which you could end your pitiful existence. You think something not too messy, seeing as that your father would just have to clean it up afterwards, making you even more of a nuisance. You look out at the intersection in front of you. You could walk out in front of a busy street. That would be efficient and quick, no clean up for your father to trudge through. Although, you wouldn't want to cause any trouble by possibly harming somebody's car in the process.

Despite that thought, you find your legs walking, walking into this busy, downtown street. Around you you hear panicked voices, telling you to clear the road before you get hit. However... it just does not phase you at all, you just keep on walking. Slowly, slowly walking, just hardly avoiding the cars that honk their horns at you. That is, until you pass a bus, as you just pass it, the only word to describe what you felt would be 'thunk'. Impact. Evidently, you have not seen that semi just beyond that bus, and neither had it seen you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end!


	5. Relief Not Yet Grasped

...Impact.

The breath knocked from your lungs, the world seems to slow down around you as you fly through the air. Cars are screeching to halts, gasps and screams from the forming crowd fill your ears as you feel yourself breaking against the hood of the public transportation vehicle. There is too much shock; adrenaline coursing through your veins to feel the pain, but you are sure that there is an unimaginable amount of it, the searing pain of getting hit by a bus. Although, on some sickening level, it feels rather relieving. All of your torment and loneliness now coming to end. Of course it feels relieving. You are so happy that this is finally over. 

Before you are even aware of it, you find lying on the ground, limbs limp and gasping for breath as your vision fades in and out. You hear a murmuring crowd, and you wonder for a moment, what has just happened? There is a throbbing in your head, and you distantly recognize a small group people rush to your side, to try and aid you. It then registers to you that you are now being carried, carried into an ambulance that you somehow missed to hear the siren of.

Where are they taking me? What happened? Why am I not dead yet? You wonder in panic, your dazed brain fuzzing in and out of reality. You try and scream, try to make words, but, you can't. You try and move your mouth, but it refuses to cooperate. Nothing you tell your body to do cooperates, in fact. You begin to panic, phasing in and out of consciousness. You are in the ambulance now, distantly aware that you are being tended to by the medics who are trying to save your life that is hanging by a single, thin thread.

This was supposed to be the end; your end. But, as it so seems...

It is just not your time quite yet...


	6. A Hospital's Stale Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead; this fic is not dead. I guess I did a pov switch? I'm not sure if I like it yet or not. Leave me a comment on what you think?

I open my eyes, blinking away the blurriness as I am blinded by bright, white lights. The subtle beep of a heart monitor sounds to the right of me, droning on in my brain. I can't move very much at all, I'm not sure why. As the room comes into focus, there is a man wearing scrubs standing next to presumably what is my bed. He holds a clipboard, scratching down my every reaction.

"Ah, good. I'm glad to see that you are awake, Mr. Captor." I hear his deep, smooth voice, watching his mouth form the words.

"Wh-where ams I?" I question, my brain short-circuiting as I try to speak, thus letting me make no sense of my words.

"You are in the hospital, do you recall being in an accident, Mr. Captor?" He asks, pleasantly.

"Ack-thi-dent?" I question, eyebrows furrowing. Why would I be in the hospital? What accident? Why can't I move? Why is everything so confusing? It was frustrating as I couldn't quite get my mind to grasp anything.

"Yes, your accident." He nods. "Mituna Captor, age sixteen. Involved in a serious motor accident on April fourteenth, at approximately three fifteen pm." He presumably read off of his clipboard. "It says here, that onlookers reported that you calmly walked out into traffic. Do you recall any of this, Mituna?" He asks.

"Mi-tun-a..." I repeated. "Thanks- thought- thatch- Fuck!" I couldn't seem to say the right word, much to my frustration. "THAT..." I finally got it. "That ith my name, isn't it?" I furrowed my eyebrows, confused, but not sure of what I was confused about.

"Yes, good job." He confirms with a small smile. "Please through, Mr. Captor. Do not strain yourself. You have suffered from a traumatic brain injury. You will have to take things slowly." He informs me. "You also appear to have suffered from numerous fractures to both of your legs, collarbone, and left arm. Multiple wounds were also discovered, many of which appear to be self-inflicted." The doctor states bitterly, but only suffices to confuse me further.

"Self inflicted? Hurt meself?" I asked, my voice obnoxious and loud as if I couldn't control the pitch and frequency. "Why would I want to hurt myself? That's silly." I chuckled, my voice giddy as if I thought something were funny about this.

You could see the sadness in the doctor's eyes as I had uttered that last though. "Don't dwell on it." The doctor continued, to which I agreed happily; giddily. "You have had some visitors over the course of the past few weeks. I am going to name a some of them, please tell me if you recognize any of these names." The doctor requests, and I nod; agreeing. "Simon Captor, Sollux Captor, and Cronus Ampora. Do any of these names sound familiar?" The doctor asks, jotting down my reactions.

"Thiiii... Thiiimon Kapt-or....? Dad? Dad ith Thimon Kapter?" I struggle, my brain having difficulty connecting the dots. At the sound of the name "Cronus Ampora" though, whether I knew why or not, I became frightened; multiple alarm bells going off in my trauma-addled mind. "BAD! Cronuth bad! Cronuth v bab!" I shouted, eyes wide and attempting to scramble away from the doctor.

The doctor raised an eyebrow at my reaction, flipping through some papers on his clipboard. "Bad huh?" The doctor states quizzically, "Says here that he is your boyfriend. He visited you several times. Seemed rather worried about you." The doctor informs, jotting something down in his clipboard.

"Boyfrien..? Why would I.. I.. I have a boyfrien?! Boyth have cooties!!" I snorted as I laughed at the ridiculous thought. My emotions seemed to flip flop dramatically; from completely terrified to jocular in mere moments.

The doctor disregarded my outburst, calmly collecting his equipment. "That is all the information that I need for now. You will be set up with your specialists and psychotherapist within the week. Have a good day Mr. Captor." The doctor smiled. "Now, I do believe that you have some visitors here." The doctor exited the sterile room, leaving me to my fizzled thoughts.

Moments passed, but it might have been longer, my perception of time (like just about everything else) was a bit off. A deep voice erupted from the doorway, attached to a body that a recognized, making me recoil away in fear.

"Ey there, sweetcheeks. Been wonderin' when your retarded ass would wake up," you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"...Cronuth...?"


End file.
